


The Bird & The Hound

by Raye_sama



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Post Season 7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raye_sama/pseuds/Raye_sama
Summary: Takes place after the events of series 7. Sandor Clegane is sent to Winterfell to help prepare for the Great War. (Also posted on FF.net)





	1. Chapter 1

In the past few days Sandor Clegane had had seen and done things he didn’t believe were possible. He’d ventured beyond the wall, seen undead bears, and fought undead armies. Seen not one but three fully grown dragons, saw one murdered, and fled to safety atop another. He’d seen John Snow return from facing down an entire undead army and now standing in the dragon pits of King’s Landing, he’d seen his brother back from the dead (or still dead but standing). The meeting itself would have been preposterous enough seeing all the players together in one place without each being covered in their enemy’s blood. It almost made him believe in something other than himself and that was more frightening than all that came before. 

He was an ugly hard man, a tough fucker to kill, and a dog. An existence as useful as it was insignificant. That’s how he knew to live and make sense of the world; how to leave the intrigues of better men to their own devices. Now it seemed the world required more. The king in the north had, in gratitude for his courage, given him the title of Lord Protector of the North though Sandor had railed against it. Now he had little fuckers calling him My Lord and Lord Clegane, and bowing in his presence. It felt raw and hollow every time. Like a joke that hadn’t reached its punchline. However, the king in the north had been in earnest and now included him at his small council. 

While he didn’t understand his king’s interest in him. He had found respect for the northern lords. They were hard like he was and respected strength above all else. They weren’t the perfumed cunts of lords he’d encountered in the south. He would have been comfortable to stay a loyal hound to the king and fight his wars but John Snow had to go and make him a Lord. 

‘Fucking waste’ he thought bitterly taking a swig of Red Dornish Sour from his calfskin jug. He was due in his lord’s tent to attend his council and he dreaded it. He felt so out of place among real lords, but he was a loyal dog. He would go wherever his master directed him. 

Entering the tent he was met with a round table of gloomy faces. Lady Brienne and that Lannister knight being the most sour. They glared at him. He smirked delighting in their discomfort at his presence. He respected the lady, she was strong, but he liked disturbing the Lannister. Especially since he could not torture his bastard son Joffery. 

“What, is there something on my face?” He rasped letting his hand slide over his burned cheek and giving them a craven smirk. They glared back each taking a moment to casually lay their hands on the hilts of their swords but said nothing. Davos gave him a smirk and Bronn snickered enjoying the joke. It was hard to say what he thought the joke was but he’d found it amusing none the less. 

“We don’t have time for that Clegane” John said softly coming behind him and ushering him to take a seat. Which he did settling in with a cool indifference. 

“I have had a raven from Winterfell” he addressed the table. “My brother Bran has seen the wall. It will soon be destroyed and he has seen the dead marching past and into the north” 

That got everyone’s attention. Sandor eyed the table noticing how each member had gone stiff. This was bad. He thought of Winterfell wondering how far it must be from the wall and if it would hold against the army of the dead. He suddenly felt a strong desire to go north needing to defend Winterfell briefly allowing himself to think of it’s Lady, but shaking the thought as soon as it came. 

“Now, Queen Daenerys will march our armies north to castle black to try and stop the threat from reaching Winterfell. Lady Brienne, Sir Jamie I need you to take the Lannister army to DragonStone to escort our weapons to Winterfell.”

“You expect to lose castle black?” Jamie interrupted looking hesitantly at John. 

“It will not last but it will buy us time to prepare Winterfell and cut off the flow of the undead into the north. We know we can not win this battle on numbers. If we can halt the armies for a short time we can put our real plan into place to take out the Night King” John continued solemnly. 

“Aye” Sandor continued “If that night cunt dies the dead die. But how do you suggest we get close enough to kill the fucker?” John went quiet looking to sir davos to continue. He took his cue standing and positioning the pieces on the table map. 

“It will be difficult, by fighting the dead at castle black we can strategically lead their army to attack at the western side of Winterfell. They will be surrounded on three sides by the Lannister army, queen Daenerys, and the northmen. We believe that we will only get close enough if you, Tormund, and King John use the crypts under Winterfell to lead a force under enemy lines to attack the camp from behind boxing them in here.” He explained pointing to the god’s wood. 

“If we’ve done our parts the Night King and his lords will be stationed here to watch the fighting progress as the best vantage point for the field at play” he finished surveying the room noticing how each lord seemed to be turning over the plan carefully. 

“This is the dumbest most suicidal shit I’ve ever heard” Bronn chided as Jamie glared at him. “But I believe in it. This is going to be fun.” He finished putting his dagger into it’s sheath and rising to pat Davos on the back. 

“And what happen’s If Winterfell falls?” Jamie interjected still not fully believing the validity of this plan. 

“If we fail, and there is a fair chance we might” John answered looking Jamie in the eye. “It will be up to your sister and the knights of the vale to hold the line south. We know that Cersei has enough wildfire to light up half of Westeros and we will make use of it to create a line the dead can not cross.” 

“You’re planning to set the whole of the Riverlands on fire?” Asked Lady Brienne in disbelief. 

“If we fail, it will be a mercy” John said and looked down at the map. 

“Then we better not fail” said Jamie as he rose from the table. “We will see it done” He took a bow and left the table Bronn following after with a chuckle. 

“I only have one concern my lord. Lady Sansa and Lady Arya are in Winterfell. I have sworn to protect them and I feel I must be by their side” Brienne looked to John for assurance. While she would not have minded to stay with Jamie’s forces she felt it was her duty to stay close to her lady’s side in times of danger. She tried to ignore the elaborate eye roll coming from Sandor and focused on John. 

“I understand your duty, but the best way to protect my sisters will be to ensure that the Lannister army makes it to Winterfell” he left no room for negotiation but she continued anyway. 

“We can not just leave them to prepare the northern forces alone” she answered and he seemed to contemplate this a moment. 

“I will go” Sandor grunted with annoyance. 

“You?” Brienne said with disgust. “You are not Lady Sansa’s sworn shield I hardly think you have the right to protect her.” 

“I am the Lord Protector of the North” he rasped glaring at her and for once enjoying the use of his title to put her down a few pegs. While he respected her fierceness in battle, her romantic fantasy of a sworn knight’s duty annoyed him to no end. 

“Thank you Lord Clegane, you and Sir Davos will ride north today to help my sisters prepare. I will join you there as soon as we have set our troops in place at Castle Black” the king had spoken and he shut down any further attempts at complaint with a stern glare. Then after receiving a bow he left the tent in search of the dragon queen. 

Brienne glared and came to stand eye to eye with Sandor. 

“If you harm one hair on My Lady’s head “ she started. 

“You’ll what, Kill me? You’ve already tried that and as you can see it didn’t take” he clapped back at her with a glare before grabbing his flagon and leaving her in the tent to throw her tantrum like a child. Sir Davos merely shrugged and followed after him. 

“Lord Clegane” Davos called after him attempting to fall into step but finding it hard to keep pace. 

“I’m not Lord” he said absently but did slow down just enough for the old man to walk easily next to him. 

“It’s too late to reject the title now My Lord” he continued with a hint of laughter in his voice. “Have you ever been to the north?”

“Once” he replied shortly not wishing to engage in meaningless pleasantries. They’d have enough of that on the road he was sure. 

“I know of no happier place in this world” Davos sighed and Sandor rolled his eyes. 

“It’ll be happy enough when the dead come to raise it to the ground” Sandor barked having had enough of romantic notions for the day. 

“Aye even then if the Lady of Winterfell is there. I believe you’ve met her” He said giving Sandor a strange look. 

“Aye” he looked at Davos out of the corner of his eye with suspicion. 

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you again, we must take pleasure in the little things before the end comes” he stated plainly. 

Sandor did not like this topic of conversation. It made him feel uneasy, even though it had been years since they’d seen each other he still felt protective of their small interactions. He didn’t want to share them with anyone. They were precious, she was precious, and he didn’t want anyone to know. He stopped in his tracks to level a glare at Davos who merely looked innocently back at him. 

“Stop chirping like a perfumed cunt and ready your Horse or I’ll rip out your tongue and feed it to the wolves” he rasped in his most menacing tone adding a bit of a smirk at the end to show just how depraved he was. Davos only smiled back at him and gave a little bow. 

“My lord” and walked past him towards the stables with a smile clearly unaffected. 

Sandor’s smirk faded. He didn’t like the feeling Davos had given him. Like he knew. He shook his head. Now was not the time to let his excitement at being reunited with the little bird and yes even the little wolf get the better of him. He knew that they’d be more like to murder him once he set foot in Winterfell than greet him with any kind of affection. It would be as he deserved for all the times he’d failed them. 

He shook his head trying to calm his thoughts and made his way toward the stables. The sooner they were on the road the better.


	2. Chapter 2

The road hadn’t been as vexing as Sandor expected. He might have even admitted he liked Sir Davos’ tales of his days on the sea. How he’d earned the name the onion knight and how a poor nameless wretch from flea-bottom became an advisor to the King in the North. However, sometimes he would speak of the Blackwater, forcing Sandor to recall the green flames that seemed to burn everywhere. 

‘It’s always fucking fire’ he thought bitterly scratching his beard and taking a large swig from his wine skin. 

They’d stopped a few miles from Winterfell to rest the horses before making the journey to the gates. Sandor had wanted to press on, the thought of a warm bed, good ale, and a pair of clear blue eyes urging him forward. Davos had been the one to beg them to break and now they were lounging near a half frozen lake when all Sandor wanted was to keep riding. He was antsy and mean and begrudgingly a little afraid of what welcome he could expect once they’d reached the keep. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to wash up a bit?” Asked Sir Davos kneeling by the lake and attempting to wipe the last fortnights grime from his face and hands. 

“You’re just going to give yourself frostbite” he bit back “It’s colder than king Joffery’s cock out here” 

“Aye, but we wouldn’t want to disappoint the ladies my Lord” Davos continued ignoring his companions grumpy crudeness. Sandor looked up and over to him like he’d grown a second head. 

“I’m no perfumed cunt. If they don’t like it they don’t have to look” he sneered. It was ridiculous to think that putting some freezing water on his face would make him look any less grotesque than he was. 

Sir Davos chuckled earning another glare from sandor as he rose to sit across from him by the fire. 

“You know you’re more handsome than you think. I know of a few ladies that might”

“What you want to suck my dick now?” Sandor interrupted with annoyance. “I bloody knew it, 2 hours from Winterfell and what you want your chance before we get there?”

“If you’d take some advice from an old man” Davos started, clearly ignoring Sandor’s blatant irritation. 

“Oh Mother”

“You might want to clear up that foul temper before we are greeted by Lady Sansa and give yourself a good washing too” he finished giving him a pointed look. 

“Ha like the Lady of Winterfell would Dane to greet a dirty hound on her doorstep” Sandor scoffed and leaned back against a tree wishing he had some warm ale and a chicken to fill his empty stomach. 

“Not a hound but she might be wanting to greet the Lord Protector of the North. You are after all her equal now” he said pointedly but only got another scoff from him in return. 

“She told me a story once, about her time in King’s Landing. How she’d met a brave and strong knight” 

Sandor shifted uncomfortably. He’d noticed that Davos liked to bring up the little bird and tell him her stories and he had gotten the vague feeling that he knew just how much it unnerved him. 

“Aye no doubt that fancy rose knight she’d mooned over. Sword swallowing cunt” he answered taking another swig from his wine skin and disappointed when he’d found it empty. 

“She didn’t say his name, only that he’d saved her from three men in a riot and he’d tried to rescue her from the battle of Blackwater. Said he was the only true knight she’d ever met” Davos continued eyes betraying that he knew more than he was telling.

Sandor held in a breath trying to look as non plussed as he could but his heart began to race. The little bird had mentioned him, had thought well about him since they’d been separated? It didn’t seem possible. Somehow Sir Davos had made him feel like a guilty little boy in front of his father. He hadn’t even seen her in 6 years. He couldn’t imagine there was any world where she still thought of him let alone well of him. 

“And why are you telling me this? She probably made him up. She liked making up songs about pretty noble knights that never were” he deflected feeling uncomfortable. He didn’t like the feeling of hope that arose in him when they spoke like this. It was cruel and he couldn’t stop himself from it. It festered in the back of his mind like an arrowhead. It’s sharp point poised and ready to pierce his armor if he let it. 

“Well, we’ll be there before night fall I’d wager. I, for one am looking forward to a hot bath and good drum of ale.” Davos finished with a sigh giving the hound another quick glance before standing to ready the horses once again. 

Sandor took a moment to look out at the frozen lake and scratched at his beard. He could feel how the hair matted together with sweat and dirt from the road and for the first time he found that feeling unpleasant. With a grunt he stood and made his way over to the lake where Davos was watering the horses. Crouching down he took a brief look in the water. 

‘I’ve looked worse’ he thought but couldn’t remember when. His face was splotched with dirt and grease and his eyes looked weary and tired. With a sigh he scooped some water into his large hands and attempted to clean some of the dirt from his face and beard. He shivered at the cold but felt energized just the same. He even went so far as to swish the water around in his mouth attempting to lessen the smell he was sure he’d acquired. Spitting out the water he looked up to see Sir Davos smirking at him. He glared back hastily taking the reins of his horse. Turning is back on Sir Davos with a grunt he walked forward not caring to see if he was even following. 

It was just nearing dusk when they reached the Hunter’s Gate. Sandor hadn’t remembered it being as tall and impressive as it was now. The banners for house stark hung to either side of the massive wooden and steel doors that lay open for their arrival. He held in a breath attempting to curb his excitement, his hope. He hesitated a moment allowing Sir Davos to ride ahead of him still unsure of what welcome he would find. 

With a slow trot they made their way through the gate and down the narrow corridor to the courtyard. He was surprised to see that a crowd had gathered to welcome them. It reminded him of when he’d first come to Winterfell as a dog to the King’s son. They’d stood in a row and welcomed them with respect as one would expect for a friend and a King. Sandor certainly hadn’t expected it for them. Coming to a hesitant stop he dismounted and turned to face the crowd. Sir Davos was already speaking when he caught a glimpse of her. The lady herself had come to welcome them. He suddenly felt dirty, even with the washing in the river and he wished he’d had a chance to comport himself before meeting her. 

Sandor openly stared.

‘Gods’ he thought. He’d remembered how pretty he thought her in Kings Landing but he wasn’t prepared for her beauty now. Her red hair stood out against the grey backdrop of the keep and he could swear there was an ethereal light surrounding her as she walked toward him. She was older, with the body of a woman, and curiously the look and confidence of someone who’d seen bloodshed and not turned away. 

“Lord Clegane” she said curtsying to him. “I trust your journey was a pleasant one?”

He barely registered what she said and grunted a small response. His heart was pounding in his ears. The only concern was that she could hear it where she stood. 

“I see you’re not dead yet” he heard a voice come from behind Sansa and suddenly Arya was in view. She looked every bit the warrior he knew her to be and it made him proud to see her look strong. 

“Aye” he rasped with a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’m a tough fucker to kill. It looks like I could say the same of you.” 

Arya beamed with pride holding one hand on the hilt of her needle. Sansa looked between them for a moment before looking back at Sandor. 

“I’d love to show you how difficult it is to kill me now. If you think you can handle it” Arya bated him. He felt a surge of pride flow through him. Though he knew he had little enough to do with it. 

“You must be tired Lord Clegane. Allow me to show you to your quarters.” Sansa interrupted moving to take Sandor’s arm. He went absolutely rigid and pulled away from her touch as if she’d burned him. 

“I’m no Lord” he chided feeling almost light headed with the pounding in his chest. He avoided eye contact with her and tried his best to look disinterested. It wouldn’t help either of them to pretend there was any would where she would come to want him. 

Sansa looked up at him and smiled. If she’d felt offended by his rebuff of her touch she didn’t show it. She merely continued to smile surely unaware of how she was affecting him. 

“And what shall I call you if not Lord?” She asked playfully brushing past Arya and forcefully taking his arm. This time not pulling back when he flinched. 

He paused at this, he really didn’t know what he wanted to hear. It felt ridiculous to call him anything at all and thus any name he gave her felt too familiar. He stayed silent allowing himself to be led by her back through the keep and into the main hall. 

Sansa seemed irritated at his silence. It concerned him but he didn’t know how to engage with her. At king’s landing it seemed so easy to fall into the role of predator. She was young and was afraid of him. He knew what to do with that Sansa. He didn’t know what to do with the woman who looked him in the eye and touched him of her own free will. 

“I know you must be tired, my lord” Sansa continued after leading him through the great hall. “If it would please you, I can show you to your chambers?” 

A mere grunt and a nod served as his reply. Sansa smiled and shooed the others away. Suddenly, as they passed through the back doors of the great hall and into the residence Sandor realized how alone they were. He stiffened still allowing her to lead him down the dimly lit hallway towards his room. 

“I hope you will like your quarters, I’ve had them bring in the colors of your house. I thought it might remind you of home” Sansa said cheerfully and if Sandor was any other man he would have thanked her. But he’d not had much of kindness in this life and he hadn’t ever known how to deal with it when it came along. 

“You needn’t have bothered, what does a dog care where it sleeps?” He grunted though secretly glad to have a warm bed for the evening. 

“ A dog may not care, but I’m sure a man will be pleased to see a bed after such a cold journey” she replied unfazed by his rude bluster. 

“Aye” he paused unsure if he should continue. “A man might” 

They reached his door and Sansa went about ordering the maids to bring him chickens and ale and all matter of comforts. He liked to see her this way. She was powerful and commanding and not at all afraid like he remembered her in King’s landing. 

Once everyone was gone ordered to their tasks Sansa lingered. Sandor took in the large expanse of the room eyes settling instantly on the strange and ornate metal grate that covered the expansive fireplace in the center. 

“I had them cover the fireplace thinking you might not want such a large open fire” she said softly coming to stand next to him. 

Sandor continued to look at the metal work noticing the intricate depictions of humming birds and ivy. He didn’t know how to respond. She had prepared this room thinking of him. Of what might make him comfortable. 

“I have a gift for you, if you will accept it.” She stated and he turned to regard her with a stern bewildered look finding that for the moment he was still unable to speak. He watched as she went to the cupboard near his bed and pulled out a large cloak lined with fur. She presented it to him and he noticed that embossed into the dark yellow leather was three black hounds, the Sigil of his house. His hands roamed over the leather noticing how intricate and delicate the details were created. It must have taken her a long time. 

He took the cloak gently from her hands and gave her a puzzling expression. She was looking at him intently waiting for his reaction. He honestly didn’t know how to react. He’d never received such thoughtful attention. He could feel that cruel sliver of hope widen and it frightened him. He knew in his soul that a beautiful creature like Sansa could never… 

“I should let you rest my lord. I’m sure the journey has been tiring.” She replied when he had remained silent. There was a look of hesitation in her eyes. Like she’d wanted to say more but had decided against it. He found he still couldn’t speak and merely grunted in return hating himself for allowing her to effect him so much. He vowed that tomorrow he would reign himself in and regain his manhood.

She looked disappointed at his lack of response but smiled anyway and turned to leave the room just as the servants began to return with meat and wine. He watched her go and vowed again that he would gain control over himself. But looking down at the cloak she gave him he couldn’t stop that pang of hope resurface and nothing he could do would squash it.


	3. Chapter 3

Sandor was late entering the great hall for breakfast. Anyone could have assumed it was the wine to blame or complete indifference to the morning etiquette of the hall. In reality, the great hound, the tallest fiercest man in Winterfell had lingered for the better part of an hour in front of his mirror debating whether or not he should wear the cloak Sansa had given him. 

He had been surprised to find that it fit him perfectly. The smooth leather straps fit across his chest securely and the length hit right above his ankle. He marveled at himself in the mirror. If he turned to the side he almost looked like a proper lord. Smiling a moment, he almost felt pride in what he saw, perhaps for the first time in his life. Almost. Catching sight of his deformed scared face in the window sobered him. He scoffed pulling off the cloak and tossing it angrily on the floor as he turned away to collapse in a chair with a sigh. 

What had she meant in giving him such a gift? 

It plagued his mind. She hadn’t looked insincere and that troubled him more. He felt the rage build in his stomach standing abruptly to gaze into the empty fireplace. 

‘I am not a lord’ he told himself. ‘And no little bird playing dress up will change that’ 

He took a moment to steady himself deciding once and for all that he wouldn’t wear the cloak. He wouldn’t let himself be a laughing stock wearing fancy frills he’d no right to own. He turned back toward the room with resolve. Then seeing the crumpled cloak on the cold stone floor he wavered. 

‘She made it for you’ he thought and suddenly he felt guilty for allowing it to touch the dirty ground. Gently he gripped the black fur aligning the collar. It was clear she’d been careful picking the colors. The black fur and rich black fabric would, while luxurious, not stand out as much amongst the white, silver, and tan furs so popular in the hall. He would not like anything that further called attention to himself. 

The dark yellow leather so closely matched that of his banners and the three black hounds looked elegant and strong. He gently felt them once more and remembered how she gazed up at him before. His breath caught in his throat as he thought ‘Would it…disappoint.. her if I didn’t wear it?’.

And there it was again, hope. It itched and circled in his mind as he tried to calm his thoughts. 

‘She made it cause it’s fucking cold in the north’ he thought attempting to right himself. ‘She probably made one for Davos too, with a big fucking onion right in the middle.’

He paused, feeling himself begin a whole new mental tirade. What if she had made Davos a cloak? He sighed deeply with a growl hating himself for being so weak. All she’d done is give him a better coat and he’d gone and read into it like a green boy with a crush. Tossing it on his bed he decided not to wear it and made for the door.

Holding the handle he paused leaning his forehead to the cold rough wood. Then with resigned determination he went to the bed, pulled on the cloak making sure to smooth out any rough edges, and strolled through the door and down to the great hall. 

 

He was the last one to arrive and his absence had been noticed. The lords and knights had already gathered for the morning war council and each of their tired leathered faces turned to him as he entered. He cursed himself for his weakness and finally remembered that they were mere days away from all out war. He made his way awkwardly to stand next to Sir Davos feeling massively out of place and wishing he had not thought to wear the cloak after all. It had not gone unnoticed by the other lords and knights that he’d suddenly acquired a northerners cloak and Sansa sitting at the high table attempting to hide her smile behind her glove did not help. 

“Nice cloak” Sir Davos whispered with a smile as Sandor came to stand next to him. 

“Fuck off” he responded sourly grabbing a goblet from the nearest table and filling his glass to the brim. He tried not to look at Sansa but couldn’t help steal glances her way as Davos attempted to tell him something about the other lords. She whispered back and forth with Arya before standing with the full commanding presence of the warden of the north. 

“My Lords, I have received a raven from King John. He and the dragon queen are on their way to Castle Black to defend us from the army of the dead. He has also brokered a truce with the Lannister army” she started but the lords interrupted her angrily talking amongst themselves. 

“The Lannister’s can’t be trusted!” One lord shouted to the agreement of all.

Sandor wanted to intervene. To help restore order to the meeting but as he was about to rise she gently placed her hand in the air to quiet the room. To his utter and complete shock these wild Northman immediately went silent and regarded their lady with respect. He knew at that moment that she had all the power here. 

“I understand your concern” she began. “But the dead are coming and they do not distinguish between houses and we must all band together to defeat them.”

The lords nodded in agreement though begrudgingly and quieted themselves. 

“I will ask much more than your patience in these next weeks, we must prepare Winterfell for a full and long siege. Lord Clegane has come to help with your training, I trust you will treat him with the respect he deserves. With your help my lords, we will bring honor to our houses and victory to your king.” She finished to the sounds of cheering noblemen. Sandor was in awe of her. In King’s Landing she’d needed protecting, saving, a pretty little bird in a pretty little cage. Here she was strong, a leader, and beloved of her people.

He saw now how far out of his league she really was and felt silly for his indecision about her gift. They were at war, he needed the right attire and as his Lady it was her duty to provide. He tried not to feel the pangs of disappointment. They were about to face an enemy that outnumbered them, that could take their fallen as part of their number, and the odds of survival were dim at best. But he was near her, everyday he could see her, talk with her, and know that she was safe and perhaps even happy. That would be enough, more than enough, to give him a happy memory before the fighting started. 

“Have you found her much changed?” Sir Davos asked bringing him out of his thoughts. He only stared back in confusion. 

“The Lady of Winterfell” he pressed. 

“Aye, I suppose surviving will do that to you” Sandor replied looking around for a servant to bring him some food. 

“Oh?” Davos asked trying to get more out of him. Sandor turned to give him a wary look. 

“She’s always been beautiful, any man with eyes can see that, but now she’s strong. Good to see she’s learned some sense” he finished with a sour tone attempting to cut off any further conversation regarding their Lady. Davos seemed far too interested in that subject and he wondered what kind of motive he must have in continually bringing it up. 

“Aye, a true lady if I ever saw one” Davos replied and chuckled ignoring Sandor’s glare in his direction. “Well, I suppose we’d better get to our duties. These men wont prepare themselves” 

Sir Davos left the hall with a hungry grumpy Sandor in tow. They spent the long morning assessing the troops and the preparations that had been made. Lord Royce had been so kind as to show them around and Sandor was surprised by the efforts taken. No detail had been sacrificed or spared. It seemed that John had no need for any concern regarding Sansa’s leadership. 

His main concern centered around the men, hardly battle worn they were more like to wet themselves at the first sight of a walker. They pretended not to stare at him as he inspected them and stammered when he spoke. If they were this frightened of him how would they ever face the armies of the dead? 

He was used to fear and would take steps as he’d done in King’s Landing to turn their fear of the man into a respect for a general. His men had feared him, but they fought stronger and longer knowing the most terrifying monster was on their side. They would need that reassurance when the real monsters came. 

The rest of the afternoon passed sparing with the men. Arya had come to watch and was disappointed when Sandor made her wait to fight him. Just as they were about to finally test each other’s metal they were interrupted by Lord Glover. 

“My lord,” he bowed at Sandor effectively stopping their fight. 

“I’m not a lord” he growled back disappointed that they were interrupted. 

“You know you say that every time, I don’t think they believe you” Arya said chuckling behind him. 

“What do you want?” Sandor looked at the now quaking northerner with annoyance. 

“My Lady Sansa desires that you attend her directly in the glass gardens” he finished much too quickly attempting to get it all out before facing the hound’s wrath. 

“The Lady desires you attend her” Arya teased but Sandor was already focused on how his heart beat sped hearing that he would soon be with her again. He knew it was silly but he’d realized that whatever he felt for Sansa was already past his control and winging about it like an idiot wouldn’t change anything. He awkwardly and too quickly sheathed his sword and moved to follow Lord Glover. 

“Hey! What about our fight?” Arya called genuinely disappointed that it would have to be postponed. 

“Aye, I’ll beat you down later” he replied off handedly moving to walk a little faster past Lord Glover. 

The glass gardens were tucked in behind the God’s wood at the northern end of the keep. The north was cold and hard not a lot grew there. In the past before the unification of Westeros raiding parties of northerners had seized as much food and livestock that could be carried from the southern lords just to stay alive. 100 years ago when Winterfell was built a traveler named Bran showed the northern lords how to build and curate green houses. Structures that prior to his visit had never existed in Westeros. Since then the glass gardens had been updated and expanded to house enough plants to feel the whole of the keep through the darkest of winter. 

It was beautiful. Exotic ferns and flowers lined the rows of pots and trays and it was warm. Sandor felt as though he’d stepped into the palace garden’s of the Red Keep. It felt so out of place in the north where everything was snow and grey and cold. 

Sansa was sitting on a stone bench in the middle of the gardens reading what looked to be a raven. She looked beautiful outlined by summer roses and white flowers he did not know the name of. He allowed himself to stare for a moment before assuming his grumpy exterior once again. 

“My lady” Lord Glover said with a large bow. “I have brought Lord Clegane as you instructed.” 

It was clear to Sandor that the honorable Lord Glover was eager to please his mistress. 

‘Too eager’ Sandor thought crossing his arms with a look of annoyance. Yet another fly had circulated around Sansa. Though he supposed, he had no right to complain. Yet he couldn’t help the smug smirk that tugged at his lips when she dismissed him. 

“You may go” she said sweetly barely glancing up at him. 

“My lady it is hardly proper” Lord Glover started only to receive a stern glare in his direction. The meaning was clear. He bowed low once again and stalked off pausing only to give a warning glance in Sandor’s direction. Sandor tried to hide his amusement. 

Once Lord Glover had left the mood turned serious. Sansa stood to look at him curiously as if she was hesitating. 

“I’ve heard from John” she said grimly. 

Sandor tensed but waited patiently for her to continue. 

“Cersei has betrayed us. She has brought the Golden Army to Westeros and will not use them to aid us. They are attacking Dragonstone as we speak” she finished with a cynical voice he’d remembered hearing once in King’s Landing. 

He rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘Damn stupid’ he cursed in his mind. He would never understand the blindness and self destruction of that family.  
“We could have told him she’d never be an ally” Sansa looked at Sandor and a moment of understanding passed between them. 

“Aye” he agreed softly. 

“How did you find our men Lord Clegane?” She continued giving him a coy look as she stopped to cradle a white flower with her fingers. 

“They’re green.” Sandor replied surprised that he still had a voice. He chided himself.

‘We are at war, we are at war’ he repeated in his head like a mantra. He promised that he would right himself. He could be no use to her if he couldn’t squash the insane desire for her attention.

“I’m glad you’ve come” she said honestly. “If anyone can train them to be brave it’s you”

His heart skipped a beat at her words and a wave of disappointment fell over him. He wasn’t brave. If anything he was all fear. Fear of her, of fire, his brother, kindness, pain, loneliness, fear that he couldn’t live up to the image she’d created of him. He’d turned craven at the battle of Blackwater and left his men to die. He left her too, fearing she would come to hate him if he took her by force. How had it come to be that she thought him brave?

“I’ll try anyway, I doubt I’ll succeed.” He rasped giving her a look of resignation. 

“You’ve changed” Sansa countered looking at him questioningly as she rounded a tall yellow fern. 

“I’ve seen a lot since King’s Landing” he started, believing that she’d meant he was worse off now. “It stays with a person”

“Good things?” She questioned. “You seem less angry now”

‘Less angry?’ He thought amusingly. ‘Brave and less angry?’ 

Though he supposed he had. Even if it were fleeting he’d met men who showed him kindness, who respected him, and he’d seen wonders that made him believe there could be a world less shit than this one. Even if he knew he’d never see it. 

“Is that what you want to see little bird?” He sneered needing to put some distance between them. “You can dress me as a lord, or one of your imaginary noble knights, but I told you before I’ll not be anything other than a killer”

She was looking at him strangely. Almost hesitant, as if she’d truly been hurt by his outburst. He regretted being so harsh immediately and felt a sharp pang in his stomach that ran up through his chest. 

“I’ve seen many killers. Seen men who delight in torture and rape. I’ve learned to look murderers in the eye and tell the difference between a noble man and a monster.” She looked him in the eye and continued. 

“It doesn’t matter if you are in fine clothes or drenched in blood and dirt. You are a noble man, your actions betray you every time” she finished looking into his eyes and reaching her hand to cradle his cheek. 

He couldn’t help but soften at her touch but that didn’t mean he believed her. 

“You don’t know the things I’ve done” he whispered closing his eyes and leaning into her touch.

He couldn’t say what he wanted to hear from her at that moment. The feeling of complete safety he felt as she touched him had muddled his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to let her have her fantasy about the kind of man he was. If it were a time of peace he might have let her, but he would likely need to do horrible things to keep them safe in the Great War. He couldn’t bear the look she might give him when he did. 

“Nor me” she started letting her hand drop from his cheek with a sigh. He looked at her questioningly already feeling the loss of her touch. 

“Did you know I was married?” She started. He paled. He had heard that she’d married Ramsey Bolton and that her brother had killed him to acquire Winterfell. He could only guess what had prompted the honorable John Snow to murder a brother.

“Aye” he said soberly. 

“He was a monster, worse than Joffery. Joffery was cruel but he wasn’t smart. He merely liked to hurt people. Ramsey liked to hurt people of course, but he liked to break their mind more.” Sansa had a far away look in her eyes that Sandor hated. 

“There is a reason I wear these clothes.” She said pointing to the high collared dress she wore. She seemed almost lost in thought. Her face showing vaguely the disgust she felt in remembering. “At first he liked to slide his blade over my skin just enough to draw blood and not to scar. He liked to scare people. When he grew tired of that he moved on to more permanent pleasures.”

She turned to look at him her eyes colder than he’d ever seen. A look he knew well. A look that said she’d experienced what a true monster could do and she’d had to save herself. 

“What he did to my body will never heal.” she paused hoping he’d understand that she wouldn’t have to voice aloud the misery he’d done to her. 

Sandor had never felt more anger in his life. He feared it. Feared the terrible things it made him want to do. Feared how Sansa would look at him once he’d done them. He moved hesitantly toward her. Feeling more important than his rage, the need to reassure her of his protection, his devotion, and his understanding. 

“I stayed to watch as the hounds he loved tore apart his skin and waited until the screams stopped and the light left his eyes. And I felt satisfied.” She said with an even tone looking at Sandor with the same cold eyes. 

“You see, we’re all killers here. Just like you always told me” She finished with a sad smile. 

Sandor didn’t know how to respond. He had thought John had killed Ramsey. He didn’t think the little bird capable of such brutality and she enjoyed it. Sandor realized he’d been guilty of believing she was the same damsel in distress he’d encountered in King’s Landing. She didn’t need him to save her anymore and he found he didn’t know what he could be to her in light of that fact. 

“Have I shocked you?” She asked with a smile pulling Sandor out of his thoughts. He was shocked. 

She circled him a moment before standing in front of him reaching up to cup his cheek one more time with a sad look. Sandor’s mind raced she looked so fragile now. He wondered if she regretted telling him what she’d done. He scolded himself, how could he let her think he judged her? 

He grabbed her wrist and looked her in the eyes with determination as she’d done to him. 

“I only wish I’d been there to see it” he spoke with a low growl. She held his gaze as moment before closing her eyes and leaning into his chest.

Sandor went rigid. Fearing that even a breath might break the moment between them. He was holding her wrist and she had curled herself into his chest. Her head leaning directly against his heart. He tried to slow his heartbeat and found that he could not regulate his breathing. He couldn’t believe what was happening and wondered for a moment if perhaps he’d really died north of the wall. It made more sense to him at this moment than being saved by a dragon and anything that came after. 

And too soon the moment was gone. The sharp sound of the glass doors opening pulled them out of their moment. Sansa moved out of his arms and he dropped her wrist like he’d been burned. It was Lord Glover who stepped into view giving Sandor and Sansa a curios look before bowing low. 

“I apologize for the interruption my lady. Lady Mormont and Lord Tully has been sighted a few leagues from the gate.” He announced looking up at them and shifting uncomfortably. 

Sandor tried to keep a look of shocked disappointment off his face but wondered if he was fooling him. It was clear by Lord Glover’s reaction he’d seen more than either of them had intended. He glanced at Sansa noticing for the first time how shallow her breathing had become. He could see a rosy pink begin to grace her cheeks and blotches forming down her neck as well. He wanted to be smug, but found that once again he could not control his heartbeat and the slight dizziness that was creeping into his head. 

“I’ll not keep you” Sandor said curtly bowing briefly before swiftly exiting the garden. He wasn’t proud of himself for not looking back at Sansa or waiting to hear if he’d been dismissed. But when the cold air hit him he let out a shaky breath and decided he would need to spar with the men for the rest of the afternoon.


	4. Chapter 4

If the men were not afraid of Sandor after their training that first morning, they were definitely afraid of him now. After returning from his meeting with the Lady of Winterfell, Sandor had proceeded to fight and beat half of the men in the castle. He was only stopped by a hesitant Sir Davos who lured him away with the promise of ale and his first meal of the day. The men had been so grateful to Sir Davos that they went about seeing to all of his duties. His horse was brushed and re-shoed. His room suddenly had a large fur blanket and a large stack of freshly chopped wood by the fireplace and he found that in the coming nights his wine cup never ceased to be filled. It seemed the men believed him capable of taming The Hound’s moods and though he would never say so aloud Sir Davos enjoyed letting the men believe it.

Sandor’s moods had become more erratic of late. The coming war and the recent betrayal of Cersei had made it hard for him to meet her. At first he thanked all the gods that he’d had some time to recover from their moment in the gardens. He’d been so surprised and confused by her tenderness that he needed space to figure out how to be in her company again. 

However now it had been three days. Three days of briefly viewing her at a distance during her morning address. Three days of catching her watching him train but being unable to acknowledge her. And three full days of expecting to be called to her side and going to bed disappointed. He hated how much it bothered him. Hated himself for being so weak. Clearly she’d had her fun with him and now she was bored of the game or tired of his company. He’d barely been able to say five words to her when they were together after all. 

Sandor sighed deeply as he sat surrounded by his men in the great hall. He hadn’t noticed but they’d all gone quite still and were attempting to stare at him without really looking directly. They knew he was on edge and were anxiously waiting for him to snap and send them into an even more hellish training regimen. Or maybe he’d finally kill all of them and save the walkers the trouble as he’d continuously promised. 

Davos looked about at the men and rubbed his temples. He pitied them and had become tired of the thick tension that had settled near the hound. Finally he sighed and moved to address the problem at hand ignoring the wide eyes and pleading looks of the men not to disturb the peace. 

“And what’s got you twisted up like a damn boy throwing a tantrum” Davos stated looking at Sandor who went still and slowly turned to look at him with a killer’s eye. 

The men held their breath and attempted to look at both Davos and Sandor without drawing attention to themselves. They were keenly aware that they might be in the most dangerous room in the whole of Westeros. 

“What did you say you rat faced cut?” Sandor bit back menacingly. 

“Just what I said” Davos replied not budging an inch. “For the past three days you’ve been sulking about scaring the shit out of the men, you can cut the tension with a bloody knife.” 

“Oh they’re scared?” Sandor growled back adding a menacing chuckle. The men proceeded to take very slow and subtle steps backward collectively feeling the instinct for flight. 

“Aye, anyone would be with the mood you’ve been in. Are you here to help us or kill us all?” Davos asked sternly looking Sandor in the eye. 

“I’m here, to take these sorry pieces of shit and turn them into soldiers. If some of them don’t make it through that so be it” Sandor was snarling like a wounded dog and Davos almost wanted to laugh at how predictable he could be. However, he controlled himself a wounded dog could still bite and he didn’t feel like inciting him to do so. 

“Why don’t you just confront what’s troubling you in person?” Davos stated looking at Sandor knowingly. 

“You’re a talker you know that?” Sandor replied rudely looking away from him with what appeared as disgust at first glance, but to a trained eye might have been a blush. “Last fucker that talked as much as you got a sword through his throat.” 

“Aye, you’re very lethal. Now I don’t have a mind to die tonight..” Davos started. 

“You’re making a lot of poor decisions if that’s the case” Sandor spat back putting a hand on his sword and standing to look down on him.

Davos put his hand on his sword as well and stood to face the much taller man. He kept eye contact trying his best to put on a stern face as he felt the fear begin to creep up his spine. 

“If you were a smart man you might find some relief in the God’s Wood before retiring for the evening” he declared hoping that Sandor would take the hint and back down. He was vaguely aware that the entire hall had gone quiet to observe their little conversation. 

“Aye?” Sandor spat. 

“Aye.” Davos confirmed and for a brief moment you could hear a pin drop in the great hall as the two men faced each other down. 

Suddenly Sandor took his hand off his sword and sighed. 

“You’re not worth the time it would take to clean my blade” he rasped menacingly and turned to swiftly exit the great hall. As he left the men let out a collective breath and as they glanced at Davos agreed he was both the bravest and stupidest man they’d ever seen. 

Outside the hall Sandor was embarrassed at being called out and seen through. Davos had the uncanny ability to know exactly what was on his mind and he wondered how much he really knew. It seemed like he’d been aware of his past dealings with Sansa from the beginning. Had the little bird mentioned it? Or was he just that obvious?

Sandor growled to himself hating how weak he’d become. He wasn’t acting like himself. He was strong, everyone feared him. Yet why had he been so afraid to seek Sansa out on his own? 

He knew why. He didn’t want to frighten her as he’d done in king’s Landing and he didn’t want to presume too much only to be deceived. He stalked off needing a walk to clear his head and without realizing found himself at the entrance to the God’s Wood. 

He hesitated, was she really there? Was she alone? Would she even want to see him? 

“Ahh!” 

He heard a shriek come from inside the gates and his heart stopped. Before he had a chance to think he was running towards the sound with his hand on the hilt of his sword and he was prepared to use it. What he was not prepared for was the feeling of snow that hit him in the chest and the shocked faces of the stark siblings as they turned to look at him. 

It took a moment for Sandor to register what had happened. He’d unknowingly ruined a perfectly innocent snowball fight and was now intruding. He mentally chided himself and cursed Davos for putting it in his mind that he should come. 

As he turned to leave he felt another snowball collide with his left shoulder and much to his surprise as he looked up at his attackers he saw a mischievous grin on Sansa’s face and knew instinctively that she’d thrown it. He smirked. 

“Is the little bird playing games now?” He started to tease but was met with another assault from Arya that hit him square in the jaw. Arya laughed and Sansa fake chided her as they prepared for his retribution. With a growl and a few foul words he quickly crouched to gather snow in his big hands moving as swiftly as he could to return snowball for snowball. It continued like this for another few moments. Arya and Sansa helping Bran to outrun Sandor’s assault until Sandor running from behind the wearwood tree slipped and projected himself face first into the cold hard ground. 

He could hear Arya’s laughter and felt Sansa had come to his side. 

“Are you hurt?” She asked trying to sound sincere but he could hear the mirth in her voice. He sat up slowly trying to hide an embarrassed blush as another snowball from Arya hit him square in the face. 

“Arya!” Sansa chided as Sandor wiped the snow from his eyes. There was a brief pause before Sandor let out a low laugh letting it sink in how ridiculous this situation was. He was a grumpy old man who’d just engaged in an impromptu snowball fight with the Lady of Winterfell, the three eyed raven, and their little assassin sister. 

“He deserved it” Arya clapped back folding her arms in mock annoyance. 

“Aye” Sandor replied standing with the help of Sansa. “No mercy is that right little wolf?” 

“No mercy” Arya agreed with pride. 

“Arya” Bran interrupted with an even tone. “I think its time to take me in”

Arya seemed disappointed for a moment but obeyed. Sandor gave him a little bow as he left and was surprised that Sansa had lingered. He was happy, for the first time in a very very long time and it showed. He smiled as Arya and Bran faded from view and turned his attention to Sansa who stood near him with an embarrassed blush gracing her cheeks. 

“So this is what you do when you’re not being queen of the north?” He teased feeling all of the tension and stress from the last few days disappear. 

“We thought it might help Bran, we used to play here as children” she defended. “He hasn’t been the same since coming home” 

“I’ve heard” he replied understanding what she meant. He hadn’t known the boy before now only glances of what he’d been like as a child before he fell from the tower. He wasn’t sure what Davos had meant by the three eye’d raven when they spoke but he knew that the boy had cold eyes that seemed to know much more than he was telling. 

“I hope you will keep this little meeting between us” she said pointedly moving to sit on a log at the base of the tree. 

“Aye, wouldn’t want the other lords to know you have fun” he teased again earning another mock glare from Sansa. 

“I believe you had fun too, Lord Clegane” she teased back earning a smirk from him. 

“Aye, but the men wouldn’t believe you even if you told them.” He replied regarding her with a warm look. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling unguarded in a moment like this. He almost felt childlike again as he played for the first time since his brother found him with his toy. 

“Perhaps not” Sansa said and laughed sweetly. Sandor found that he loved that sound and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. 

“It’s nice to see you, you’ve been so busy these last few days” she said suddenly breaking the silent moment. 

‘I’ve been busy?’ He thought incredulously. Not registering the for the moment the fact that she’d missed him. 

“You’ve been busy yourself” he replied back looking at her with a hesitant look. 

“I” She started seemingly uncertain if she should continue. “I thought you might appear like you had in King’s Landing. You always seemed to suddenly appear in rooms or out of corners.” 

Sandor regarded her a moment. She was looking away from him and it seemed that her breathing had become somewhat uneven. A dark thought came into Sandor’s mind as he found himself kneeling before her taking her wrist in his hand and moving his other to cradle her cheek forcing her to look at him. 

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked seriously gazing into her eyes looking for any shred of doubt or falseness they might hold. 

Sansa merely nodded in return looking at him with glazed over eyes. He returned her look with one of confusion. 

“Why?” He asked gently but there was an underlying urgency in his voice and his grip on her wrist had become tighter. His gaze was intense and though he was kneeling Sansa felt that he loomed over her. 

“You won’t hurt me” she replied hoping he understood the gravity of those words to her. To a woman who’d been beaten, tortured, raped, and seen what horrors people were capable of inflicting, it meant everything. More than trust, more than love, it was complete certainty in another person. 

“No little bird I won’t hurt you” he rasped easing his hold on her wrist and releasing her cheek. “But I don’t want you to pity me either”

“I don’t pity you” she replied instantly wondering what had prompted him to say so. 

“I know I’m nothing to look at” he started “and I’m much older than you. I’m a dog, you don’t need to flirt with a dog to get it to follow you” he finished with a low voice looking down at the ground. He half expected her to outright deny that she had flirted with him. To rebuke him with disgust and there would be an end to it. He hadn’t expected her to reach out and cradle his cheek forcing him to look at her as he’d done moments before. 

“You’re not a dog. Not to me” she said seriously holding his confused eyes with her determined ones. He found that he suddenly couldn’t slow his breathing as a wicked thought entered the back of his mind. Before he fully registered what he was doing he closed his eyes pulling her in as he kissed her soft lips. He relished in the small sound of surprise that escaped her as he pressed closer allowing his tongue to slip past her lips and into her mouth. He couldn’t help the low pleased growl that came when instead of pulling away in horror he felt her arms come up gently to wrap around his neck and her delicate fingers become entwined in his hair. 

Hardly anything passed through his mind in the next moments. Only the dull thrill that radiated through his body at having her close like this. At some point he’d leaned back against the wearwood tree pulling her with him so that she sat curled in his lap as he cradled her head kissing her deeply and wondering if he’d ever be able to stop. 

She broke apart from him a moment later her breath coming in short and ragged and a flush had settled over her cheeks and neck. She stared at him with a dark glazed look in her eye and he found that his heart skipped a beat and thundered in his chest. Vaguely he wondered if a man could die from feeling like this but that hardly seemed important. 

Sansa laid her head lazily in the crook of Sandor’s neck as his arms came protectively around her. Absentmindedly, her right hand came to cradle his chin lightly playing with his beard as she sighed happily against his neck. 

Sandor breathed in her sent kissing the top of her head and for the first time since he’d happened upon the stark siblings this evening his senses began to come back to him. He went rigid, his mind raced and his insecurities bounded their way to the surface with full force. 

“What’s wrong?” Sansa asked looking up at him and seeing the look of sheer panic that now covered his face. 

“Why” he paused uncertain “did you let me do that?” 

Sandor eased his hold on her to allow her to face him. He studied her face trying to find any clue as to why he’d been allowed so close to her. He felt the hope gnaw at his mind and tighten in his chest but prepared himself to be disappointed. Though it didn’t matter he mused, after kissing her he knew he would never be able to forget even if she wanted to. 

“I don’t know” she replied honestly. “I think I have wanted to do that for a very long time”

Sandor’s breath caught in his throat of all the answers she could have given him. He wasn’t prepared for that. He grunted in confused approval as Sansa moved to lean her head into the crook of his neck once more. He found that she fit perfectly there and as he’d felt when she had leaned into him in the glass gardens he felt safe with her nestled close to him. A feeling almost as foreign as the warm happiness that spread through his chest as his breathing calmed. 

Clang, clang, clang!

The warning bells of Winterfell jerked them back to reality in an instant. They looked at each other each with a look of panic before squeezing each other’s hand and placing their masks of indifference on again. They hastened to the hall arriving to see that the lords had gathered each looking sullen and craven as they entered. Sansa moved to take her place at the head of the table and Sandor followed two steps behind this time not leaving her side as she stood to address her men. 

“What has happened? Who sounded the alarm?” Sansa demanded maintaining her composure and control. It was lord Royce that stepped forward alarm clearly written on his face. 

“We have spotted an army approaching from the west. They are not of our colors” he said gravely and the whole room knew what he meant. 

Sansa paused to look at Bran in who’s eyes he confirmed, the army of the dead was here and they didn’t have enough men.


End file.
